Enigma
by FlashFiction
Summary: Who really knows what Alphard Black is thinking? He just stands there; tall, dark, unreadable. Sometimes even he doesn't know what he's thinking. But when he makes a decision, he sees it through.


**Author's Note: This was written for the Characterization Competition at the HPFC forum. Enjoy :) **

"Whiskey. Neat." he said, his soft, husky voice just audible over the general hum of the room. His fingers tapped against the cold marble of the bar, as the bar tender made his drink and slid it over to him. Alphard Black nodded politely, picking up the glass and heading back to the spot near the wall, where he had positioned himself at the beginning of the evening. He sighed, leant against the wall and took a swig of the drink he had just ordered.

Alphard hated parties. He hated the people, dressed up like they had something to prove; Men puffing their chests out like competing animals, women accessorizing with smiles as fake as the jewels they wore. He hated the conversation; saying lots without actually saying anything. He hated himself when he was at them, how he played along just like all the pawns in the game.

His hatred of parties was not something he advertised. He was Alphard Black, the guy that all the men slapped on the back, the guy that all the woman flirted with when those men turned away, the one that all the boys wanted to be when they grew up. With his intense grey eyes and constant 5 o'clock shadow, he was what people called "ruggedly handsome". He wasn't tall, his nose was a tad crocked and he had seen the best side of forty, but he kept himself fit and well groomed. Like most of his family, Alphard had jet black hair and an expression that was a mix of vague interest and condescension.

And like most of his family, Alphard was at this party. It was the pure-blood social event of the year, one that Alphard had planned to "forget". His heart had never really been in the pure-blood lifestyle. However, his sister Walburga had sent him an owl, a howler and had eventually just apparated to his apartment and dragged him along. The Blacks had to keep up appearances after all. So here he was, leaning against a wall, cradling a drink, watching the waitresses make love to him with their eyes. One walked past, a pretty blonde carrying a tray and wearing a dress that was far too short. She took Alphard's glass and smiled sweetly, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "Thanks." he said and she laughed like it was the funniest thing. He smiled back, but when she left he stopped like the whole thing had never happened.

Pretty women used to make him happy. He used to entertain himself, seeing how many he could string along. But, as he grew up, he realized how empty it was. Waking up beside another name that he had forgotten couldn't fill him, couldn't sustain him. He got older, wanting more but not knowing how to get it. He simply became "Alphard the bachelor" and all his family and friends thought he was happy with it. They couldn't see how he was caving inwards, how unsatisfied he was with it all.

Alphard's grey eyes moved to his sister. She was in an animated conversation. Walburga thrived in this kind of condition. She knew how to keep up appearances. Alphard could never understand it. Still, she had a family, a husband and was happy. Perhaps if he had followed her down the path of matrimony, he could have been happy right now. But it was too late; he'd chosen his path and he had to walk it, unable to go back, unwilling to go forwards.

He was about to go in search of another drink when his nephew, Sirius, walked over. Sirius, people said, looked a bit like Alphard. He was only sixteen, but his handsome face and messy, dark hair already got attention. Alphard liked Sirius. Sirius seemed to understand it; he felt the same resentment, the same emptiness that his uncle felt. He too was searching for something other than the world in which they were both trapped. Sirius held two drinks, one of which he handed to his relative.

"Aren't you too young to be drinking?" Alphard said flatly, in way of thanks.

"Aren't you too old to be making eyes at the waitress?" Sirius said in return, his eyes sparkling.

"Touché." Alphard smirked. "Cheers."

He watched as his nephew took a swig and his felt a twinge of bitterness. Sirius was a younger reflection of himself. If something wasn't done, he would become exactly like Alphard; alone, unhappy, unable to tell anyone. They were both trapped, but it didn't have to remain that way.

"I like you, Sirius." Alphard said distractedly, watching his drink slosh around in his glass.

"I'm flattered." Sirius replied with a grin.

"You thought about what you'll do when you leave school?" asked Alphard.

"No idea." Sirius shrugged. "I want to fix motorcycles."

Alphard gave a half smile. "Bet your mum loves that!"

"Haven't told her yet." Sirius said. "Not sure I will."

Alphard laughed. "No family loyalty? How unlike a Black."

The two men stood in silence for a second before the older of the pair spoke again.

"Get me another drink, kid." he said.

"What's in it for me?" the younger one joked.

Alphard handed him the glass.

"I'll give you enough gold to get you on your feet. You could move out tomorrow."

Sirius laughed and walked off. Alphard watched him go and wondered what he'd do when he realized his uncle wasn't kidding.


End file.
